


Words

by pieandangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandangels/pseuds/pieandangels





	Words

Falling in love was never part of the Dean Winchester Master Plan. Love was weakness, he'd spent enough time loving Sammy to know that. Love was comprised entirely of stupid mistakes, and mistakes had to be eliminated. One mistake, one show of love, and now Sam was dead and the Gates of Hell were still wide open.

It was a mistake to let Sam undertake the trials alone. He had bled out in a parking lot while angels fell around them, their wings burning, just like it was the Fourth of July, 1996. And it was love's fault. Because if Dean didn't love Sam, it wouldn't matter that he was dead. The Gates would be closed and Dean might be happy, whatever that meant. But he had loved Sam more intensely than he had loved anything, including himself. Especially himself. And now that his baby brother was gone, what was the point of living?

Dean traveled for a few months, always trying to make another mistake, trying to let the vampire drain his blood, the spirit tear him to pieces. A mistake sounded like the perfect way to die. But he was too skilled and too full of unadulterated rage. It was too easy to kill the things that were supposed to have been banished from the earth. He wasn't fighting to save the world anymore, but because it was familiar, and after so much loss, familiarity felt good. Soothing.

Rain was falling when Dean ran into the one person he never thought he'd see again, dark hair slicked against sharp cheekbones, blue eyes made more prominent by the frighteningly deep purple shadows beneath them. 

"Cas?" Dean asked. The fallen angel jumped at being addressed directly and looked up through his damp hair.

"Dean?"

Dean wanted to run. He wanted to take off, get in the Impala, and drive straight into the ocean. He didn't want to see this man who had once been his purpose. The one who took him away from Sam in those last few hours.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean managed, popping the collar of his jacket against the icy November wind.

"This is where I fell. I was going to find you but I did not think you would want to see me."

"Cas, I - " Dean stopped. There was nothing to say, not really. Nothing that could be spoken, anyway. Maybe there were words, in some long-forgotten language, that expressed the peculiar feeling in Dean's chest, but he could not vocalize them. He could never tell Cas the million shapeless thoughts twitching and squirming in his brain.

"I am sorry," Castiel said, and bowed his head.

"It's freezing out here."

"I have nowhere else to go."

It was not Dean's own compassion that led him to invite Cas to his motel room. At least, that was what he told himself. It was what Sam would've done. Sam. Pure, good, honest Sammy. And now what was he? Ashes scattered across the Kansas countryside. 

The motel wasn't any better than usual, but Cas looked relieved to be in the warmth. Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed in on a chair, and Cas's trenchcoat followed. Dean hesitated for a moment. It was so strange to see Cas acting human. Shivering. Shaking. So full of human sadness.

"Dean," Cas said. "I wanted to find you."

"You should've," Dean answered, running a hand across his hair to flatten it after the brutal wind.

"You were so angry."

"That hasn't changed. You've got to stop running from me, Cas."

Castiel nodded and sat on the edge of the nearest bed. "Where is Sam?"

That was all it took. Dean fell into a chair, head in hands, and tried to hold back tears. He was unable to, and they poured freely down his face, pooling in his palms. Months, and nothing changed. There was still an unbearable hollowness, a gaping hole. He dug his palms into his eyes until he saw stars, then took a breath and looked up at Cas.

"I am sorry," Cas said again.

"It doesn't matter," Dean said. 

"I should've been with you."

Dean stood and crossed to the bed, sitting next to Cas. "Yeah."

"I should've stopped Metatron. I should've - "

"Shh," Dean said, cupping Cas's cheek with a rough, uncertain hand. "There are a lot of things you should've done. There's a lot I should've done. I never should've taken Sam away from Stanford. Good doesn't happen to people like me. I should've left the poor kid alone."

"It is not your fault, Dean, and you are not a bad man. I wanted to find you, to tell you that I - "

"Please don't," Dean interrupted, dropping his hand. If Cas said it, he couldn't take it back. If he said it, Dean would say it back. And then where would they be? Trapped in another mess that would end in death. Nothing good comes of love.

Cas was silent. He reached forward, stroking his fingertips along Dean's jaw, and it was enough. Dean didn't need words, didn't need apologies. He needed Cas, and now Cas was here. For months, the fallen angel had been in his dreams, blue eyes and pink lips. Comfort he could only find in sleep, and he could never seem to sleep anymore. But now Cas was here, he was real, his skin touching Dean's. It didn't mean much. It didn't mean forgiveness, it didn't mean healing. But it was love, and dangerous though it was, unplanned though it was, it held some kind of solace. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him fighting for one more night. And that was how he would take life now. One day at a time, struggling second by second until it started to get easier. It had never been easy before, each breath draining him. But now he had another set of lungs, another body to watch over him on earth as Sam was watching in heaven.


End file.
